


The Sensibility of Wantonness

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bondage, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-War, Rimming, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-29
Updated: 2008-10-29
Packaged: 2018-10-26 15:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Draco invites Ron to an art show of a student for whom he's been posing as Baldr, a Norse figure of myth. Ron finds he's unexpectedly moved by the portraits and gives Draco a night to remember.





	The Sensibility of Wantonness

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Set within my 'Crown of Rope' universe; PWP. The concept of Draco posing for a set of photographs to do with Scandinavian mythology comes from Theron and his tattoo and the artist for whom he poses in _The Fall of the Kings_ by Ellen Kushner and Delia Sherman.  


* * *

Even though it had been Ron's idea to go to the photography exhibition featuring his lover, he began second-guessing himself as soon as he started to get dressed. Draco had been life modelling at University College London's art school for a year. When a student had asked for him to pose for a set of staged photos complete with costumes. Costumes of a sort, since Draco was mostly naked, or so he'd said-- at odd locations, mostly outdoors, and there were also some animals involved. Draco had been vague about the whole thing, which thoroughly cheesed Ron off, but then he'd told Ron the student was doing this for her senior project and that they should go so Ron could see the photos. Ron had relaxed once he knew the photographer was a her; it wouldn't stop her from hitting on Draco, but he _knew_ Draco wouldn't reciprocate in the slightest.

Draco had been quite enthusiastic about how the finished prints had turned out, though he'd felt the need to remind Ron yet again that they weren't erotic pictures, rather a retelling of a Muggle Scandinavian fairy tale or myth with Draco posing as the legendary character. It was just the thought of seeing his lover's body on display for a bunch of Muggle art students, their friends, teachers and even some of the public at large that made Ron's jealousy flare. All of those men, and women, would be ogling Draco's lithe form, even if he was essentially playing the part of someone else.

"They can admire, but honestly, Ron," Draco had said over coffee when he'd brought up the dates of the show and suggested they attend, though he planned to cast a glamour on himself rather than be recognised. "Two things. One: nearly everyone there will be artists. They'll be picking apart the shadows, the ambiance, the body positioning, the technical aspects to developing the prints themselves. It's not about me at all. Two: even if one or two did look at me and think they'd like to be with me, they can't and I'm not interested. There's only one set of hands and lips and other key body parts I want on me, and it's yours."

Ron was jolted out of his reassuring reverie by three loud knocks to his door. He half-jogged to it and opened it with a wide smile that faded instantly when he saw it wasn't Draco.

"Who the hell--" he started.

"Good. If even you couldn't tell it's me, I'll be fine with the Muggles," Draco said, though the man in the doorway looked nothing like him.

"Oh, fuck. Sorry. Of course," Ron said, stepping back to let Draco in, though it felt like allowing an utter stranger into his flat. This person had short brown hair, green eyes, a hawkish nose and a tapestry of tattoos on his right forearm. His physique hadn't changed, nor his elegance of movement, but it was very disconcerting. "You're really good at those," Ron said appreciatively, though he cringed when Draco draped his arms around his neck.

Draco looked hurt. Or the stranger's feelings seemed to be hurt. "No hug? Or kiss?" he beseeched. "I can undo the glamour, you know."

"Sorry, Draco," Ron said, placing his hands on an arse, which, thankfully, felt quite familiar under his touch. "That effective of a glamour must have taken you while to get right, so don't worry about it right now. I'll make it up to you after, once you're back to yourself."

Draco sighed, leaning in to breathe hotly in Ron's ear. "I'll hold you to that," he said before rolling the sensitive earlobe in his teeth.

Ron let out a low rumble of pleasure, but backed away just the same. "The sooner we go, the sooner I see you in these arty photos that don't move, and the sooner we come back here so I can be with you. Are we taking Muggle transport?"

Draco nodded. "I'll get us to the closest bus stop and to the gallery. Oh, hi Pigwidgeon!" he cooed to Ron's owl as it flew over to land on a dining room chair nearest Draco.

As Draco petted him and the owl preened, Ron shook his head. "I guess owls really only see our aural imprint, not the superficial stuff. Never knew that," he muttered, going to fetch an owl treat from the kitchen. He tossed it to Pig who caught it mid-air and crunched on it a few times before swallowing it down.

"There's a lot to owls that Hogwarts didn't teach, and is just taken for granted unless you have an interest in that. I don't know that much, but as part of my home lessons I was taught how owls can find witches and wizards, their limitations in getting past certain Dark Magic barriers, that sort of thing," Draco said blithely, scratching affectionately at Ron's owl, who nipped at his finger in playful response.

"Let's go so I can see you for real, and naked," Ron said, disconcerted more than he wanted to admit. "At least on film. I'll look forward to the real you in bed, later."

"The same goes for you, lover," Draco purred, walking out into the corridor so Ron could close and lock the door.

* * * * *

"So," Draco said under his breath as they walked into the hall. "In Scandinavian literature, there's Baldr. He was 'fair of face and personality', but he ended up being taken out by a jealous brother with mistletoe. Hence the outdoor photographs."

Ron walked at Draco's side, admiring the photography. It did seem more than just Draco in the pictures, something-- mythic, really. The other people in attendance did seem to be positive in their reaction to it all, which made Ron feel proud, though there was no real reason for him to feel such. Draco was the subject, and he was amazing as captured by the photographer. There were fifteen portraits, all in black and white, on large canvasses. Ron was enthralled by them; seeing Draco as part of a story of Nordic legend was both erotic and stimulating from an artistic standpoint. Draco seemed out of time, a legend brought to life, his pale body and near-white hair seeming otherworldly.

At one point they stopped in front of a striking portrait; Draco was lying on his back in front of a fire, and the artist had drawn fanciful, pagan-looking imagery all over his torso.

"You look amazing," Ron muttered. "I'm guessing that the artist never saw your tattoo?"

Draco's tattoo, a dragon he'd named Scorpius, only appeared when Draco was sexually aroused, which Ron assumed hadn't happened while he was posing. Then again, he knew that Draco did get off on being admired, whether the person in question was male or female.

Draco choked back a laugh. "No. Scorpius only shows up these days when you're around, trust me."

"Glad to hear that. It's a gorgeous photograph, even though it's wierd that you're not moving."

Ron let his fingers drift just above the canvas, hovering above his lover's picture. He didn't want to do any damage to it, though, and he wasn't sure how delicate Muggle prints were, so he forced himself to step back and listened to the other people in the gallery as they made their comments about the photographer and her theme for the series of prints. Once he and Draco had looked their fill, they left, unnoticed or at least un-commented on that Ron could tell. There was an Apparating point Draco knew about near the university, and they went there to return to the Wizarding world.

"Let's go to your flat. I have an idea of what I'd like to do with you tonight," Ron said, the words rumbling low in his chest, "and some key elements are at your place."

Draco had removed the glamour he'd cast on himself by this point and had snaked an arm possessively around Ron's waist, a prurient smirk on his face.

"Do you, now?" he said, raising an eyebrow, and Ron felt his cock begin to stiffen. Theirs wasn't an average relationship, but then again, neither he nor his former nemesis were at all average to begin with.

"I do. Let's get there so I can claim you as mine. The photographs were beautiful, but I have other images in my head of how I want to see you," Ron said, breathing the words into Draco's ear so that he shivered in anticipation.

"Hold on to me, then," Draco said before Ron felt the gut-wrenching pull of side-along Apparition.

Moments later the floor thudded under his feet and he tried not to lurch forward. He'd never liked the sensation of Apparating with someone else, but he hadn't wanted to let Draco go. Draco had Apparated them into his living room, and as soon as they'd gotten their balance, he turned in Ron's arms to give him a searing kiss. He cradled Ron's jaw in his hand, his long fingers gripping the side of Ron's face in a gesture that Ron knew meant he was as desperate for a shag as Ron was.

"All right, beautiful," Ron said breathlessly after they drew apart, admiring the flush in his lover's cheeks, now seeing him through dual perspectives of Draco being Draco, but also Draco as some otherworldly Scandinavian martyr. "Get your short ropes, please, and I'll meet you in your bedroom."

Draco's eyes were lit up with passion, their grey colour luminous as he sent his hand to the front of Ron's trousers, cupping the erection growing harder by the minute.

"Loo first, and then bed," Draco said, his voice sultry and full of promise.

He squeezed at Ron's trapped cock, and Ron let out a small moan as Draco walked away. Ron wasn't sure where this idea had come from, but he knew well by this point what particular activities turned Draco on the most. Ron still wasn't as competent and comfortable as he would have liked arranging Draco in the various shibari bindings he loved, but there was a basic and aesthetically pleasing array that only bound his arms together and held them to his chest, and it was one Ron knew he could do well. He went straight to Draco's bedroom and cast a low-level heating charm before taking off all of his clothes and waiting for Draco to arrive. Seeing Draco as a person of myth had made Ron want to reclaim him as his partner, to ground himself in Draco's very real skin and musk, to torture him with pleasure in ways he knew would make Draco writhe and cry out with profanity and pleadings that made Ron's own body ache with need.

"Mmmmm, now _you're_ a vision," Draco said as he sauntered into the room, a length of black silk cording in his hand. "Shall I get undressed?"

"I'll do it," Ron said, his cock twitching as he felt Draco's burning gaze focussed on Ron's nudity and sensing Draco's adoration for him. Warmth flooded Ron's chest as he got Draco out of his clothes; they'd had so many years of animosity that it was still a novelty to him to look into Draco's face and see willingness and trust etched in his features. He was going to possess Draco, give him an evening to remember. His heart seemed to stumble in its beat as Draco continued to look at him with such desire as he pressed his forearms and hands together in anticipation of Ron tying him up, engaging in the shibari rituals that he so adored.

"Why don't you lie down on your back," Ron suggested, letting his hand splay across Draco's groin, the blond curls tickling his fingertips before he gently circled his thumb and forefinger around the base of Draco's erect shaft. "Then I'll turn you over."

"Oh?"

Draco canted his hips as Ron began slowly to move his fingers up and down the pliant skin of Draco's erection. He never tired of feeling the heat and weight of Draco's cock in his hand, or mouth, or occasionally in his arse.

"Oh yes. After I bind you, I want you to turn over and put that gorgeous arse of yours up in the air for me."

Draco sank down onto his bed and sat up against some pillows, fluid welling up from the slit at the rosy crown of his cock as he gazed hungrily at Ron. "You're awfully keen," he said, his eyes fluttering closed when Ron straddled him, groin to groin, and reverently wound the cording around Draco's arms and then his back.

"There's just something about you, Draco. I tend to be shite with expressing myself, but I care about you. Loads," Ron managed to say once he'd finished the last knot and could admire his handiwork. He didn't like being tied up himself, but over time he'd talked enough with Draco to know why he enjoyed it, and it was pretty fucking sexy to see Draco in such a state of arousal, unable to touch himself, his body pulsing with erotic power that Ron could manipulate and heighten thanks to the year they'd now had together as lovers. Part of Ron wanted to forego his plan and just fuck Draco into the mattress-- Draco wouldn't mind, he was sure; he already had a dazed look on his face and Ron had no doubt his tattoo was vibrant and agitated at the base of his spine.

"I'm really fond of you, too," Draco murmured, stretching his head toward Ron. "Kiss me first, then I'll turn over, with some help."

Ron indulged himself, kissing Draco passionately, their tongues spearing and sliding alongside each other while Ron wanked their cocks in one hand. Draco moaned into his mouth, making whimpering sounds until Ron pulled away. He wasn't usually all that into rimming, but he knew how much Draco loved it. How better to be joined to the most intimate aspects of his partner than to lick and kiss him around that sensitive muscle, reminding Draco that he wanted to give him all the physical pleasure that he could?

"Roll over, and get on your knees," Ron said, his voice raspy with lust. "And if you'll cast a cleansing spell…"

"I took care of that in the loo," Draco said as his voice cracked.

Ron knew Draco's nerves must have been shrieking with anticipation for his voice to betray him like that. Even in sex Draco often seemed more composed than Ron, though apparently the tantalysing prospect of what Ron would do was becoming enough to unhinge Draco. Given that Draco's arms were bound, Ron did help him over onto his stomach. Draco lay his head to the side, his back curved as he scooted his knees underneath him, his legs spread apart as though he expected Ron to situate himself and go at it. Instead, Ron eased himself back a bit and pressed his thumbs to the sides of the dusky puckered skin. Gently he pulled Draco more open as he leaned in to trace the pale crease from the top of Draco's arse to his entrance with his tongue.

"Ohhhhh fuck," Draco groaned.

Greedy, haunted sounds drifted back to Ron as he tongued the quivering skin in front of him. Draco was so responsive, moaning into the pillow, wrenching his head from side to side as Ron slid in his tongue, jabbing into the hot flesh. A scent of incense wafted up to him and Ron realised Draco had done more than clean himself, he'd put a drop or two of his cologne on his bollocks, knowing how much Ron loved the fragrance of the Eau des Baux that Draco wore. Ron's licking grew more intense as Draco became more vocal; Ron's own cock was curved up against his abdomen, but he was mostly concerned with driving Draco out of his mind. Ron's chin was covered with his own saliva as he enthusiastically lapped and kissed Draco's arse and loosened hole. He'd noticed the rising pitch of Draco's mewling sounds and knew he was close, so he took pity on him and edged his hand up between Draco's legs to take his slippery cock in hand.

"Fuck, Ron!" Draco yelped.

His hips bucked as Ron pulled down the slender foreskin to run his thumb across the top of Draco's cock, the flat of his tongue stroking against the constant movement of Draco's inner muscle, opening and closing as he tried to clench around Ron's tongue. The shard of Ron that was still juvenile absolutely loved the fact that he could render Draco incomprehensible: Draco, who he'd decked in the face during the final battle; Draco, who had been a pointy-faced ferret and spoken down about Weasleys in general and Ron in particular. Ron could now reduce him as a man and lover to incomprehensible gibberish, and make him come harder than anyone in his past had ever done. Panting, Ron resolved to do just that.

He got up on his knees, pulling hard on Draco's cock, his gaze riveted by the dragon tattoo which so accurately reflected Draco's sexual feelings. Scorpius was in a frenzy, wings unfurled, his tail flicking relentlessly toward Draco's spit-slicked arse, belching fire and in a state of extreme agitation. Ron's own libido was in a furore; he couldn't focus enough to wank himself while his right hand flew up and down Draco's cock. Instead, he rubbed himself between Draco's legs, his erection jostling Draco's shaved bollocks until Draco let out a wail and telltale fluid spurted over Ron's hand and onto the coverlet. Letting out his own cry of frustration, Ron released Draco's spent cock and took himself in hand. He wanked himself furiously until, moments later, the tingling shot from his toes to his sacs and burst out of him as he shuddered, his knees nearly giving way with the intensity of his release. He'd gripped Draco's left hip, and found himself looking at Scorpius, now seeming quite pleased, preening his wings. Ron leaned down and kissed the tattoo, which smiled-- or grimaced, Ron wasn't sure.

"Let me untie you," he said to Draco who nodded, his face still pressed against the pillow.

"That was incredible," Draco said as Ron undid the bindings, rubbing at his arms where the silk cording had been the tightest.

"You inspire me," Ron said simply, lying next to Draco and putting an arm over his chest. He placed a few chaste kisses on Draco's forehead as Draco quietly Accio'ed his wand and cast a quick cleansing charm on them, and then snuggled into Ron's embrace. They were nearly the same height, which was a novelty for Ron, yet another unexpected pleasure he derived from being with Draco. He slid his leg between Draco's and held him, content and grateful.

"Sleep well," Draco murmured against Ron's cheek before giving him a chaste kiss.

Ron smiled, and did just that.


End file.
